


What to Do with a Damp Monkey

by TheRimmerConnection



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unhelpful Guide entries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-17
Updated: 2006-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRimmerConnection/pseuds/TheRimmerConnection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something has happened to Arthur, and the Guide is a little sketchy about what to do with him. Will Ford and Zaphod work out the solution? Very slight, early stage, fairly fluffy FordArthur oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	What to Do with a Damp Monkey

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I do not own these lovely beings, nor their setting, nor yet their entire way of going about things. I would have them round for tea any day, but I will never make money from them. All hail DNA.
> 
> This is especially for anyone who has to rewind repeatedly on the TV series to see Ford say 'Hello Arthur' again and again and again...(at least, I hope I'm not the only one...)

Arthur was almost as depressed as Marvin today, and it didn't suit him. He usually tried for good old British stiff-upper-lipped stoicism, and if it sometimes slipped, well, he could hardly be blamed for it; it was probably the weather.

The mere fact of being where he was, for the reasons that he was, was bad enough on a day to day basis, but today it had all got too much for him. Ford was spending less time with him now than he had in the recent past. Just being on the Heart of Gold seemed to have put him under Zaphod Beeblebrox's domination, and he barely spoke to Arthur any more. Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but he thought perhaps it might be that he was missing Ford.  
  
Back on Earth, for three years, he had got quite used to the idea of Ford being around. Not there all the time, but liable to drop in at any moment, usually the most inconvenient moment. It may have been annoying to have a fairly drunk man knocking on your door at all hours, but on the other hand, it was… um… was it everso slightly erotic, the way Ford said 'Hello Arthur'? That little catch of breath just afterwards, while his eyes blazed one of the more dangerous shades of blue (just a gnat's hairgrip away from intelligence)? Even the exceptionally menacing smile couldn't quite disguise how alluring that was.  
  
Arthur had no sexual interest in Ford, in men generally, or, to be perfectly honest, in anyone at all, most of the time. Arthur was picky and traditionally-minded. If he was going to embark on any sort of relationship, it would be with a woman, a woman he would meet at a friend's party, or at the pub, or, in a perfect world, by a series of coincidental meetings while taking irregular strolls in the park. Nevertheless, although he didn't realise it, it had been almost like being loved, being latched onto by Ford, and to be honest, Arthur could have done with that feeling now, far more than when he had been on Earth. He couldn't understand why he missed such erratic company, but couldn't help feeling that it would be nice to spend a little more time with his comfortingly humanoid friend; without the chap with two heads, three arms and a penchant for snatching away the people Arthur was fond of, lurking in the background to do it again with a smooth 'Ford, babeeeee, come and take a look at this'.  
  
Anyhow, that was all beside the point, although it wasn't improving his mood. The real point was that, lost erotic overtones or none, Arthur was being left alone rather a lot these days and he didn't like it. Partly as a result of the continuing bad humour resulting from this situation, he had just had an altercation with a door, during which it had told him, in its most soothing voice, that it would be its greatest pleasure to open for him, but that it really didn't see the need to push it. Arthur had replied that he was used to pushing the doors back home. Indeed, many of them didn't open at all if you didn't give them a hearty shove, and it wasn't anything personal, it was just hard to break the habit. The door was obviously put out, but its programming being for unrelenting calm, it told him what he could do with his primitive Earth-doors, in its sweetest and most relaxing tones. For some reason, this touched rather a nerve. Knowing that a whole host of inanimate objects were no more was suddenly more upsetting than the knowledge of the wholesale destruction of a world's-worth of animate species, including all Arthur's friends and relatives, the dog, and his entire way of life. To have this thought thrust on him in such a calm voice, suffixed with a knowingly vicious 'Share and enjoy', just added insult to injury. It was too much for Arthur, and against his entire upbringing, against everything his brain expected of him, he started to cry. Tears of loss and frustration rolled down his cheeks and at that point, he decided to go and try to revive himself in the only way he knew how: with the nearest thing he could get to a nice hot cup of tea.

* * *

  
  
The Nutri-Matic had just lost its last chance: registering the moisture of Arthur's tears on his lips, it failed to realise that this was not the designator of a recently consumed beverage. It therefore assumed that it had already completed its task of providing a satisfying drink to a thirsty lifeform, but had accidentally wiped this service from its memory.  
"Share and Enjoy", it said.  
  
This is why, when Zaphod Beeblebrox came along the corridor a few minutes later, he found the Earthman slumped in a heap against the wall, with tears streaming down his face and a selection of shoulder-heavings and sobbing noises quite clearly showing that 'All was not well'.  
  
Zaphod looked at Arthur. He didn't know what to do. He could ignore it completely; after all, if Monkey-man wanted to sit in the corner and make strange noises, who was he to stop him? On the other hand, Zaphod had never seen someone crying before, and he wasn't sure what it was: whether it was toxic, or whether, more importantly, it posed an immediate threat to him, The Zaphod Beeblebrox and his rather hoopy stolen ship. He turned his back on Arthur (though his second head twisted back round to check what it had missed), and called loudly,  
  
"Trillian?"  
  
Trillian did not appear, but a few seconds later, Ford came along the corridor, sent to see what the noise was about. Zaphod sighed with relief,  
  
"Hey, Ford, your monkey's leaking."  
  
"What? Oh. So he is."  
  
Ford was somewhat disconcerted. He vaguely recognised a Problem being passed cleverly over to his side of the table. It was the 'Your Monkey' bit that did it. It was like having Dad tell a Mum that 'Your Son' has stolen next door's anteater; eaten the car; run away with an unpleasantly stupid shade of green; or whatever else you care to think of. Never 'Our Son' until he's back on track for the 'World's Most Perfect Son' award. Not that Zaphod would ever, ever refer to Arthur as 'Our Monkey', but he usually stuck to the far less worrying 'The Monkey'. Zaphod had obviously decided that whatever was happening to Arthur was 'Something Ford Would Have To Deal With'.  
  
"What does it mean?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I think he might be preparing to...moult…or something." Ford scrabbled round in his head for an explanation that would make him sound knowledgeable, but failed and had to settle for this one.  
  
Perhaps at this point, Arthur should have raised his head and corrected them, perhaps he should have done this at any point in the ensuing conversation. However, the truth was that it was much easier, now that he was here, just to sit and blubber on the floor.  
  
Ford had lived on Earth for fifteen years and probably should have recognised crying, but, unfortunately, he had lived in England, not France. He was therefore wholly unacquainted with the spectacle of men crying. He knew about women crying, but he had only read about it, not actually seen it, and the details were sketchy at best.  
  
Perhaps even more unfortunately, Ford had written the new entry on ape-descended Earth-originated life-forms for the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ , so consulting it as his next move was not terribly helpful.  
  
 _Water coming out of eyes:_  
  
it read,  
  
 _This phenomenon is seen in very few life-forms in the galaxy. See Ape-descended life-forms: Humans; and Hydroxophilitic Calmbers._  
  
Ford went to the Human entry, forgetting that he had submitted it. Anyway, you never knew what might have happened in the editing process.  
  
 _Human females are often afflicted by this complaint, known as crying. It is not harmful and during a bout, they are best left well alone. Human males do not suffer in this way._  
  
Ford looked at Zaphod and shrugged.  
  
"Perhaps this is more a Hydroxophilitic Calmber thing…" he said, keying in the code for that entry.  
  
 _The Hydroxophilitic Calmbers of Qualvarkan Three are distinguished largely by their extremely high water content. This usually settles down at a gentle 103 percent (the extra percentage being an unfortunate side effect of being trans-dimensionally linked to a river in a parallel universe), but as part of a cycle determined by the phases of Qualvarkan Three's six moons, they will occasionally increase their water take-on from their linked river, and thereby raise their water content to over 200 percent. In these circumstances, they are of course liable to explode. The only noticeable early warning sign is the expulsion of water from their eyes. If you come across a Hydroxophilitic Calmber in this state it is considered Good Form to sit down beside it and give it a big hug. The external squeezing effectively pushes the water back through the trans-dimensional link, in a way that the poor being itself cannot manage on its own. This is the only way to stop the explosion and drenching that will ensue in short order if the water is not pushed back. When the correct moon phases are reached in the off season, when non-water- inflated tourists are in short supply, most of the mature population explode and many of the rest are drowned by the resultant flood waters. Hugging them is therefore a worthwhile use of your time and may earn you a Free Drink. (See also footnote: Keeping your towel dry on Qualvarkan Three.)_  
  
Ford looked at Zaphod, then at Arthur, "He doesn't look like a Hydroxophilitic Calmber…"

"Hey! I don't want your monkey exploding on my ship. Do something baby!" Zaphod whined, with increasing pitch.

"Why me? It's your ship that'll get wet."

"He's your friend. But if you want him to explode then that's just fine." Zaphod walked off determinedly, looking rather smug. He was pleased he had thought of the friendship thing. He might not be very good at it in its most basic form, but he had an idea flitting round in his heads that Ford had picked up some strange habits on Earth.  
  
Ford's mouth hung open as Zaphod marched off. He looked back at Arthur. Ah well, he had spent plenty of time hugging him, albeit in a rather drunken state and with Arthur fighting to keep his nose out of range of Ford's alcoholic breath, but it wasn't a bad experience, from what he could remember. There might also be a free drink in it for him. He sat down next to Arthur and put his arms round him. Arthur stiffened for a moment, then let his head rest on Ford's chest, sniffling and gulping.  
  
Arthur didn't even have the oomph left to ask 'What are you doing Ford?', when Ford brought his hand up to stroke Arthur's hair; but in a few minutes he felt better, a lot better. His supply of tears met an onslaughtof more pleasant emotions and the vanguard was forced to retreat, swirling back up his tear ducts, with only the sting of little tear-sabre cuts reminding him that they had ever been there. He lay whimpering in Ford's arms, feeling a lot safer and more loved than he had ten minutes ago, hoping that Ford wasn't smiling that predatory smile into his hair, because for some reason the idea appealed to him more than he thought it should. He wondered why Ford wasn't making the special noises that humans-comforting-other-crying-humans make, before remembering that, after all, Ford wasn't human.  
  
Ford stayed still, unsure what to do next – the Guide hadn't been very clear on that point. Then he realised that Arthur had stopped crying. A warming, comfortable feeling flooded through him: he had done that – stopped the Earthman leaking. Zaphod had run off scared, but he, Ford, had bravely assessed and responded to an alien situation, like any good hitchhiker. It seemed the Hydroxophilitic Calmber thing also applied to Human males. And now: now he had a fairly cuddly, warm and grateful Human in his lap; a Human of whom he had always been excessively fond, for no good reason that he could think of. He tightened his grip on Arthur's shoulder and was rewarded with a watery, uncertain half-smile. Ford decided he might spend a little more time with the Earthman this evening, as long as he had finished leaking. He resolved to send in an updated entry on the subject of Human males to _The Guide_ , but first…Ford smiled his most predatory and dangerous-looking smile, straight at Arthur…

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews craved and deeply appreciated!


End file.
